


TORGZU

by mercuryhatter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5244680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yet another fic about raising Dean from perdition. most of these are pretty anthropomorphic so I thought I would give a shot at my take on un-vesseled angels and souls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TORGZU

**Author's Note:**

> an excuse to badly translate some enochian, and to make fun of Castiel for having no idea how human bodies work. this may or may not be super accurate since he was apparently stationed on Earth for a while, but even the Earth garrisons didn’t take vessels until apocalypse stuff started happening and anyway, this is funnier. crossposted on tumblr.

Castiel flew for what might have been hours if time had been any sort of constraint against the desperate, dirty film that seemed to cling to his essence, trailing after him as if he’d pulled a planet’s worth of putrid dust up from Hell. He should have followed instructions, returning the bright, tattered little soul he carried inside him to its body as soon as possible, but he was almost mindless with the need to get as far as possible from the smell of sulfer and soul-deep rot that laced his molecules. And anyway, the soul didn’t seem to mind; it flickered brighter as Castiel shot between dimensions and planes, seeming as relieved as Castiel was to be anywhere but where it had been. The angels called it _EOO K BAEOUIB_ , Righteous Man, but Castiel knew the soul was known to humans as he, and as Dean Winchester. As some of his frenzied desperation began to wane, Castiel found himself wondering what Dean Winchester the human must be like, clothed in flesh and free from the taint and muck of Hell, and it was this thought that finally slowed him down, made him limit himself to three dimensions, one plane, a single narrow patch of trees that housed a small rectangle of disturbed dirt.

  
Castiel filtered himself down through the soil, holding the soul of Dean Winchester even more carefully as it began to strain instinctively toward its body. Had Castiel had a human form he would have been frowning pensively, soul beating frantically against the closed fingers of one hand and a half-decayed body beneath the splayed fingers of the other, trying to figure out how to heal the flesh without losing control of the soul. He hummed softly along his limbs, trying to calm the soul, and six feet above them the trees shook their needles in a sudden warm breeze. Dean Winchester’s soul quieted, but only slightly, and Castiel felt with some exasperation that he should have expected this from the stubborn, wild maelstrom of a man he had ripped free from Hell. Dean Winchester had resisted then too, with what Castiel suspected was a natural suspicion compounded by decades of being taught not to trust in chances of escape.

  
_I helped you once and you fought against that too._ Castiel did not use words as the soul would not have been able to hear them anyway; instead he curled the essence of what he was trying to say through his being and into the soul’s. _Trust that I am still trying to help you now, and allow me to do my job._

  
The soul settled for vibrating in place rather than flinging itself indiscriminately in the body’s direction, and Castiel turned his attention to the flesh that he needed to make whole. Carefully, so that he didn’t simply burn through it, he let a fraction of his grace suffuse the body, feeling it renew and knit together as if it were his own bones and skin. It was an incredibly delicate process, Castiel never remembered how fragile human bodies were until he was touching one, and he fought hard to control the flow of grace, letting it build up inside him rather than sear through Dean Winchester’s body. With something like a gasp, Castiel freed the soul and withdrew from the body at the same time, excess energy shooting out of the grave and in all directions in a blinding flash of light and heat. His declaration rolled out into the universe, in every language at once: DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED. This done, Castiel quickly dissolved himself into incorporeality, pulling back from the physical world before he could do more damage, and curled into himself, exhausted.

  
Castiel realized belatedly when he returned to check on his handiwork that human bodies functioned best aboveground, and spared a brief prayer of thanks that at least this human had been resourceful enough to dig himself up. It would have been a huge embarrassment if after all Castiel had done to free Dean Winchester’s soul, he accidentally allowed the body to die again due to misunderstanding human interactions with states of matter. As it was, it seemed Castiel still hadn’t been quite as careful as he should have been with how his grace heats matter; he observed the handprint burn on Dean Winchester’s shoulder with mild chagrin, feeling the slight tingle that was the remnants of Castiel’s grace bound up in the melted flesh. But this human was already pulling himself together admirably, and, overcome with curiosity once again, Castiel allowed his voice to leak across the dimensions and call to him.

 _TORGZU EOO K BAEOUIB. EOL_ , Castiel said. It wasn’t as if he was unfamiliar with how humans normally reacted to angelic voices, even quiet ones, but he assumed that having practically shared molecules with Dean Winchester bare minutes earlier that this one might be different. After all, Castiel’s vessels could understand him, even on the first visit. But he must have been more tired than he thought, because Dean Winchester showed no sign that he understood. Castiel was disappointed, but he didn’t worry. Resolving to try again when he was rested, Castiel left his human alone to become acclimated to Earth once again.

**Author's Note:**

> translations, with the stipulation that a) enochian makes very little sense to begin with and b) there are like ten different enochian words for each english one so in some cases I tried to pick the ones with the closest connotation and with others I just picked the first one I came across because ctrl+F didn’t work on the dictionary I was using:  
> EOO K BAEOIB: man of righteousness, or something like it  
> TORGZU: arise (I couldn’t find anything akin to “hello” or “welcome” so I went with this. all enochian is going to sound weirdly formal when translated anyway because it’s a magic language, not a vernacular, so I don’t feel bad.)  
> EOL: “I made you,” ish. I could have translated the entire “gripped you tight and raised you” because it seems that enochian does have the vocabulary for it, but that would have been really long so I went with a shorthand. think of it as Castiel kind of introducing himself. hey there Dean, I’m the guy who just uncorpsified your body, how’s Earth? etc.
> 
> how do you pronounce any of these, you ask? literally however the fuck you want.


End file.
